


Quiet in the Wee Hours

by Eve_7564



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eve_7564/pseuds/Eve_7564
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione's been patient, but she's tired of waiting for Ron to make his move. She finally decides to make the move herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet in the Wee Hours

Ron woke with a start in the dark hours just after midnight. At first he wasn’t sure what had disturbed him. Harry lay quietly on the camp bed across the room. He no longer had the agonizing visions that has plagued him before. His sleep wasn’t always peaceful, but at least the nocturnal disturbances were nightmares and nothing more. They had won; Voldemort was dead – but so were many others.

That’s what had awakened him, Ron realized. He had been dreaming of Fred, about the time Fred broke his arm. Ron had been five or so, playing Quiddich with Bill, Charlie, and the twins. The snitch had gone into a dive, and Ron, on Bill’s old broom, had lost control. Fred had realized what was going to happen before anyone else did. At seven, he couldn’t cast a Cushioning Charm or anything else that would have saved Ron, so he did the only thing he could. He threw himself between Ron and the ground. Ron could still remember the sickening crack as his broomstick slammed full-force into Fred’s forearm. Ron had landed, scared but unhurt, on top of Fred. To his dying day, Fred maintained that he had been trying to catch the snitch and his “stupid git of a brother” had simply gotten in the way.

Ron lay quietly looking up at the ceiling, a sad smile on his face. He closed his eyes, trying to get back to sleep, but he couldn’t. It was too quiet. In the month since Voldemort’s defeat, the Burrow had never been as quiet as it was right now. Percy, Charlie, and George were sharing a bedroom; George still wasn’t quite up to facing the flat he had shared with Fred. Hermione and Ginny shared a room just downstairs, and Bill and Fleur had stayed over at least once a week.

As his thoughts wandered, he slowly became aware of low voices just below him. It took him a minute to realize it was the girls whispering. He rolled onto his side and pulled the covers over his head, trying to block out the sound of their voices. After a minute or two they were quiet again.

A knock on the door startled him, and he hit his head on the slope of the ceiling as he jumped out of bed. He stalked over to the door and yanked it open, ready to snarl at Ginny or Percy or whoever was stupid enough to be wandering around the house after midnight. But it wasn’t Ginny or Percy.

Hermione stood on the landing, wrapped in a robe of dark blue silk. Her hair hung down her back in a tight French braid – probably Ginny’s doing, that. Her brown eyes were wide as she looked at him.

“Hermione! What the devil are you doing here?” Ron hissed.

“Waking up Harry,” she answered, as if that made perfect sense.

“What do you mean, waking up Harry?” he demanded.

“Shhh! Wait a minute, you’ll see,” she said. She leaned down and shook Harry’s shoulder. “Harry. Harry, wake up.”

Harry opened his eyes and sat up groggily. “What? What’s going on?” He blinked owlishly as he put on his glasses. “Geez, Hermione, what are you doing? It must be three o’clock in the morning!”

“Two o’clock, actually. I need you to go downstairs and see Ginny.”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean, ‘go downstairs and see Ginny?’ Hermione, what the bloody hell is going on?”

“She wants to talk to you, Harry, and she doesn’t want to talk in her brother’s room.”

“At two o’clock in the bloody morning!?” Harry hissed.

“Can you think of a better time to be alone together than when everyone else is fast asleep?” Hermione asked.

Something about the way she said it, the way she stressed the phrase “alone together” made Harry blush. “Er, no. Okay, then,” he stammered.

Ron cleared his throat. “You broke her heart last year, remember?”

“Ron – ” Hermione began.

“No, Hermione, he’s right,” Harry said. “You know why I did it, Ron.”

“I know why you said you did it. I believe you, and I don’t hold it against you. But before you decide you want to be ‘alone’ with my little sister, you’d better be one hundred percent sure that was the _only_ reason. Because if you walk away from her again, I swear, I’ll make you wish you’d chosen the train after your conversation with Professor Dumbledore in King’s Cross.”

“Ronald!” Hermione gasped.

“Hush, Hermione,” Harry said again. “I told you, he’s right.” He looked Ron in the eyes now. “Keeping Voldemort away from her was the only reason I walked away. She knows that. I would rather she hated me for that than for Voldemort to have used her to get to me. If anyone had done to Ginny what Bellatrix did to Hermione, I can’t say for sure what would have happened. If Ginny will take me back, there is nothing and nobody that will make me walk away again.”

Ron held Harry’s gaze for a moment more, then nodded once. Harry stood up and walked to the door. “Um…. Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Er, I’m not sure how long we’ll be talking. Actually, we may take a walk. I wouldn’t want our – discussion – to wake anyone,” he said, blushing to the roots of his tousled hair.

“Oh, dear,” Hermione muttered bemusedly as she slipped an empty glass vial out of the pocket of her robe. “I must have spilled this sleeping draught into the firewhisky before I served it tonight! There was enough here to put everyone to sleep for at least, oh, nine or ten hours! Pity none of us had any, even Ginny. Otherwise, we’d all be fast asleep like the rest of the house.”

A slow smile spread across Harry’s face. “Right. Yes. Well. Goodnight, then,” he said, and nearly ran from the room.

“Thank goodness!” she sighed. Then she turned to glare at Ron. “And you! You almost ruined it!”

“She’s my sister! What was I supposed to do? She didn’t let on to Harry, but his leaving almost did her in, and you know it as well as I do. I had to be sure.”

Hermione’s gaze softened as she looked at him. She nodded once, as he had a moment ago, and laid down on his bed.

“Er, Hermione, what are you doing?” Ron asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s after two in the morning, I’m surely not going back to Ginny’s room tonight, and I’m tired.”

“Well, you could have at least _asked_ if I minded sleeping on the camp bed,” he muttered.

“Who said anything about the camp bed?” She pulled her wand from her pocket, muttered something Ron couldn’t hear, and waved it at the camp bed. It folded itself up and leaned itself neatly against the wall. Then she muttered something else and waved the wand at Ron’s bed. The bed began to widen. Hermione kept the tip of the wand pointed at the edge of the bed until it was about twice as wide as it had been, then slashed the wand sharply to the left. The bed stopped moving.

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione? Where’d you learn that one?”

“Looked it up,” she said, just a bit smugly. “Here you go. Room for two.” She patted the bed beside her.

Ron blushed and turned away. He had a vision of climbing into the bed beside her, slipping the robe from her shoulders, and letting his hands roam over her pale skin. Since the day Harry had defeated Voldemort, Ron and Hermione had engaged in some serious snogging, but they had never gone any further. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself if he climbed into that bed with her. No, scratch that. He was sure he couldn’t trust himself. Things low in his abdomen were starting to tighten as images of his hands on her skin filled his head.

He heard Hermione whisper the spell that would soundproof the room. Then he heard a quiet rustle and turned his head; he immediately wished he hadn’t. She had taken off her robe and hung it on the closet door. Underneath she was wearing a tank top and shorts – very short shorts, in a matching shade of blue. She had unbraided her hair and it now hung in long waves down her back. The thin fabric of the tank top was stretched tight across her nipples, and he found himself wondering frantically how she could possibly be cold. A small groan escaped his lips as he turned away from her again. His pajama bottoms were made of worn, comfortable cotton, but right now they felt like steel against his crotch. _Oh, God, please don’t let her see me like this._

“Ron, what’s wrong? Are you going to stand there all night? Come lay down. There’s plenty of room.”

“I can’t. I can’t lay in the same bed with you. If I try, neither one of us will get any sleep.” He reached for the doorknob and found it locked. “Hermione, let me out. Please.” It was almost a whine.

“Where were you going?” she whispered.

“Bathroom. Shower. I have to…” Ron didn’t get any further. Hermione had come up behind him while he had been pleading to leave, and now she grabbed his arm, spun him around, and pulled him down to her for a searing kiss. Her tongue was in his mouth, and her hips were arching against his. When she finally let him go, her skin was damp and flushed. She looked him in the eyes, then deliberately let her gaze travel slowly down his bare chest and his abdomen, finally coming to rest on the bulge in his pants.

“Sorry?” Ron grunted. She had said something.

“I said, I want you to stay. I want you to come to bed. I want you to touch me so I can do something more than dream about the way your skin feels on mine. I can’t stand another night alone in my bed with my skin burning for you.” As she talked, she slipped her fingers under his waistband. Slowly, almost as if she was trying not to scare him, she reached in and caressed his length with one hand and slid his pants over his hips with the other. Then, very gently, she squeezed.

“Oh, God,” he moaned. He pushed her hands away, breathing hard.

“Damn it, Ron, why are you fighting me so hard? I thought you wanted me,” her voice was quavering, close to tears.

He looked at her in stunned silence. Hermione never used that sort of language. It had come, then; the moment of truth. A dozen different swers flashed through his mind, but he discounted them immediately. If she was going to reject him, at least let her reject him for the truth.

“Because I’m scared. I’m scared the past couple of months with you have just been because of all we’ve been through over the past few years. I’m scared that one day you’re going to wake up and realize you’ve made a mistake. You’ll realize that I’m just your friend, good for a comfortable shag now and then, but not someone you want to spend the rest of your life with. And I don’t want to be that, Hermione. You are everything I’ll ever want, and I want to be everything you want, too. I love you.”

Tears filled her eyes, but her smile was the brightest he had ever seen. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that. I’ve loved you since you got us across Professor McGonagall’s chess board our first year. And last year, when they – when Bellatrix – I could hear you screaming my name, over and over. You were all that kept me sane. There’s no one else for me, Ron. It’s always been you.”

Ron didn’t need any more convincing. He stepped out of his pajama bottoms and kicked them aside. He pulled Hermione to him and kissed her gently, almost chastely. Without taking his lips from hers, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. He laid her down and her hair fanned out against the pillow beneath her. He lay down beside her and kissed her again. Their lips met and parted. He tasted her with long, slow strokes of his tongue. His lips trailed from her mouth, over her jawline, down her neck, and into the little hollow of her collarbone. She whimpered as he licked tiny circles on her skin. She reached out and brushed her hand against his erection. As he trailed his lips lower, she wrapped her hand around his length and begin to stroke him.

“Oh, God, yes!” he shouted as he threw his head back in pleasure. He managed, barely, to keep himself from coming, but it was close. He growled and stretched so his lower body was out of her reach, and moved his upper body on top of her. Then he fastened his lips onto one silk-covered nipple, and took the other one between his fingers. Her hands, unable to reach his cock, played over his back, leaving light scratches where she dug her nails in.

He leaned back for just a moment and looked into her eyes. They had darkened to a rich chocolate brown, and they were locked on his. Her hair clung in small, sweat-soaked curls to her forehead, and her cheeks and throat were flushed. He slid his hands under her tank top and sat her up. “Off,” was all he said, and in one smooth motion, he slid it over her head and sent is soaring in the direction of his discarded bottoms. He stared at her for a moment, savoring her curves, then went back to her nipples, caressing one in each hand while he kissed and licked his way down her stomach. When he got to the waistband of her shorts, he took his hands and slid them slowly down her legs, enjoying her moans as he ran his hands back up them to her center. Carefully, he slid one finger over her folds, then traced a line back up to her bellybutton.

She arched her hips and whispered, “Please. Oh, God, please. I can’t take any more. I want you so –” she gasped as the tip of his cock slipped between the folds of her pussy.

“Oh, God, Hermione, you are so wet,” Ron whispered. Slowly, he inched his way further in as she arched her hips higher. He was surprised to meet resistance. His eyes flew to her face as he realized what that resistance was, and he found her staring at him.

“Hermione?” he asked. “You’re a—”

“Yes! I told you there’s no one else for me. There never has been. Please, Ron, oh God, please, just do it,” she cried.

“Are you sure?” he whispered. Hermione just nodded.

He had heard enough from the stories his brothers told to know there was no easy way to do what she asked. He drew himself nearly all the way out and pushed back in gently several times, until she began thrusting her hips upward again, trying to take more. Then in one motion, as smoothly as possible, he plunged himself all the way in.

Hermione cried out again and tightened every muscle, holding onto him for dear life. _Oh, God that felt good_. He held himself perfectly still, supporting all his weight on his elbows, until she began to move again, slowly at first, then rocking herself up and down his cock. He began stroking in and out of her, trying to match her tempo. They found their rhythm, and he felt her tighten around him. Still he kept plunging in and out of her, and she matched him thrust for thrust. She arched her hips into his and screamed his name. It felt like a hand, a hot, wet hand clenching and massaging him, and he gave one final thrust. Stars exploded against the blackness of his mind as he came, pouring his orgasm into hers.

Minutes – or maybe hours – later, when he could see again, he lay on his back with Hermione snuggled to him, an arm thrown over his waist and her leg over both of his. He was softly running his fingers up and down her arm. He reached over and tenderly brushed her hair back from her face. “Hermione?”

“Hmmm?”

“How much longer will that sleeping draught last, you reckon?”

“Another couple of hours or so. Why?”

“Just making sure we have time to take a nap. Wake me in about an hour, ok?”

Hermione grinned. Her hand had moved below his waist, producing the most delightful sensations. “No, Ronald, I don’t think so. I can think of other things I’d rather be doing with the next couple of hours. We wouldn’t want to waste any time, now would we?” And with that, she reached up and kissed him.


End file.
